Stifled
by Gypsy Love
Summary: Caitlin and her conflict over marrying Joey in season 4. Caitlin POV
1. Chapter 1

I guess I had ulterior motives. Always. There were so many me's. I remember Joey's last girlfriend Sydney, dark and sultry like all his girlfriends tend to be, shadows of Julia I suppose. She had said I was ditzy. And she was right. But there was much more to me than that.

I was smarter than Joey, and I didn't mean that to be mean. Maybe my I.Q. was higher, I'm sure it was. But Joey had a certain simplicity to his life that I found myself wanting, and then being stifled by.

I didn't know what I wanted. Could I marry Joey and stay in Toronto with my stupid cable show? Could I be this pretend mother to Angie and Craig? I really wasn't any mother figure to them. To Angie I was kind of like a loveable aunt, a fun aunt who came and went. To Craig I was, I didn't even really know. Maybe an older cousin type who could give advice that he could choose to follow or not, and it wouldn't matter. I was marginal to them, like they were to me.

And what was Joey to me? Wasn't he my blast from the past? Wasn't he a security blanket that meant I didn't have to go out into the world and succeed, and make a difference, and do all the things I was so sure that I would do when I was in Junior High?

I didn't have to think any of those thoughts until Kevin Smith showed up. He was kind of good looking despite being, well, bigger. And I responded to his sharp creativity, I could always see the light dancing behind his eyes. Joey didn't have that same kind of, I don't know, spark.

So what was I doing when I orchestrated it so that Craig could go to England to be with Ashley? What was I doing sneaking off and having drinks with Kevin Smith? What was I doing always hanging around the movie set? What was I doing asking Joey to marry me?

When Craig came home with Joey the night me and Angie were doing the wedding invitations, that was the night it all came crashing down. My mouth dropped softly open as I saw Craig behind Joey, his head down but his eyes looking up in that way he had, and I could see he was sick. And Joey, the look of almost righteous anger on his face so staggering to me, because that look was meant for me.

Angie's expression mirrored mine, and she stared at Craig in his leather jacket, clutching his guitar. That dazed and out of it look on his face, and Joey took a step toward me.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea for him to go to England, Caitlin," he said, and I felt guilt fill my mouth like the taste of pennies. He was right, of course. But I needed Craig to go for this summer, because he took up too much of Joey's time, and I was too confused to be fighting for time with him.

"So this is my fault?" I said, and anger filled my eyes as I held an invitation. It was null and void now. There would be no wedding. In this instant I knew that. Joey's concerns were here with Craig and Angela and his business. My concerns were worldly and creative and I knew that didn't leave room for marriage and family and domesticity. I'd known that, I knew it. But I'd go down fighting.

"You told him to go! You told him it was a good idea! And quitting your job!"

I let the invitation drop to the coffee table with the rest of them, and it lightly swayed on the breeze created by Angela moving, going over to Craig and taking his hand. They were the family, taking care of each other. Joey was mother and father to those kids. I was nothing. I was fading as we spoke.

"Oh great! Talk about mixing up the fight, Joey!"

Angela led Craig upstairs and I saw on his face this pain as he stopped on the stairs and looked at us through the railings. Maybe his parents fought, I'm sure they did, and maybe he thought he caused those fights. He certainly seemed to be the cause of this one. But he wasn't. I was.

"And about Craig going to England! Kevin and I saw what you couldn't, that his heart was breaking!"

What was I saying? I didn't really care that much about why I pushed Craig to go to England, it was beside the point. I needed to have Joey more to myself and any excuse would do. And I'd hurt Craig doing that, I shouldn't have gone against Joey's intuition.

I could see the kids from my vantage point in the living room, Joey couldn't, his back to them. I felt all weird, being the adult fighting in a living room and scaring kids. I could still feel the kid that lived inside of me, the 12 year old who could have saved the world.

"It's not his heart that I'm worried about," Joey was saying, his eyes narrowed at me in that way, and I just wanted to put my hands up and say, 'okay, I give, you're right, you're right,' But I couldn't. My warrior spirit wouldn't let me.

"It's his mind, his mind is a lot more fragile," Joey said, and behind him I saw Craig wince, and I saw the sad but almost maternal look on Angie's face and she pulled Craig to his feet, made him go upstairs.

"If you're going to be a part of this family-"

I cut him off.

"Don't talk to me about family! If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have a roof over your head!"

It was low. I was rich. I'd helped a friend in need, I bought his house and gave it to him, and now I'd sullied that by throwing it in his face, and I saw the fight and the anger leave his eyes. I could kick myself. That fight and anger was right to be there, I never should have sent Craig away like that, causing him that distress because I was a mess, because I didn't know who or what I wanted, didn't know which path to follow.

Joey turned away from me, and the look in his eyes was of such defeat, such unspeakable brokenness. What had I done? What was I doing? I loved him. I did. I'd loved him ever since we were in school together but we couldn't get married, we couldn't be together like that. So I ran to Kevin Smith and soaked up his intelligence and creativity. So I ran to Africa and Southeast Asia to educate people about AIDS, so I buried myself in my good causes, thinking all the while I could still be someone's wife.

Joey had gone upstairs to comfort Craig and Angie, to reassure them that this fight wasn't their fault. He'd tuck Angie in and read her a story, he'd make sure Craig took his medication, he'd listen to him talk about Ashley and how much she had hurt him. And I'd stand down here, staring at the half filled out invitations, the happy couple embossed in gold into the thick creamy paper.


	2. Chapter 2

The air was cool and I only needed a light jacket. I left the pile of invitations, left the living room with its comforting fireplace and old furniture. Joey hadn't come downstairs yet and I snuck away, holding onto the edge of the front door before I went, feeling like some new wind was about to blow me away.

I shivered in the slight cold, walking the familiar streets. It wasn't easy being me. Having these type of grand ideas, grand thoughts, having the ability to follow through, it made certain aspects of life difficult. I couldn't be here for Joey and Craig and Angela and still follow my heart. I couldn't be a wife and a mother and a crusader, too. The time had come to choose. I shook my head, my short red hair barely moving with the motion. I didn't want to choose.

I couldn't blame Kevin Smith but his arrival made me see what else there was. The fire in his eyes made me remember my own. I loved Joey, I keep saying that but it's true. I loved him, I love him, I love his gentle spirit and his sense of humor and the way he makes everything feel okay. But it isn't enough. Not for me. I need more.

Every step took me closer to Kevin's trailer. I looked up at the fancy tinsel of Younge Street, the smooth expanse of high rises, the blue glass of the rows of windows reflecting buildings and sky. I went by the Elgin Theatre, remembering the shows I'd seen there all the way back to childhood, the red velvet drapes and the carved dome ceiling. Every step was taking me farther away.

Leaving Joey was one thing. Pushing Craig to go to England when it wasn't the right thing for him, I bit my lip and felt this deep guilt over that. I hadn't done it with maliciousness, I'd thought it would be fine. Craig wasn't a child anymore, after all. I felt bad that I hadn't considered all he'd been through, the bipolar and everything.

I shook my head. It was done. Things were ending, and I was feeling the sadness of that. I could see the trailer, saw the light reflecting dimly off of it's shiny sides. I hugged myself, shivering inside my jacket, and headed up the wooden steps.


End file.
